


Egg's Vice

by EggingtonToast



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Gen, Ryan's twitch community - Freeform, Vagabond's Vagabonds, brief mention of The Vagabond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:34:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8760619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EggingtonToast/pseuds/EggingtonToast
Summary: Late nights leaves a person in Los Santos to give in to habits.[Part of DmitriMolotov's Vagabond's Vagabonds universe.]





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Vagabond's Vagabonds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7508854) by [DmitriMolotov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DmitriMolotov/pseuds/DmitriMolotov). 



They needed something to bite down on.

 

It was almost like an itch in their gums, years old habit of grinding their teeth together until their jaw was too sore to clench anymore. Egg had an urge. Egg had a vice. Egg had no more people to kill tonight.

 

They glanced over at the small line of jars, partially filled with countless loose teeth, pilfered from bodies they’ve carried over the divide of life, to death. Egg blinked, images of raw, warm meat flashing behind their eyelids. Arms, legs, necks, all indentured with Egg’s teeth.

 

It wasn’t a fetish thing. It was a way to quell the aching urge in their gums. To soothe their mind, releasing needless energy, almost masticating meditation.

 

Egg licked their teeth. Egg stared at jars and jars of teeth. Egg got up and pulled on a heavy jacket, beat up sneakers, their apartment keys, and went out.

 

The glare of the convenience store lights were oddly comforting. Hours of mindless pacing about small, cramped aisles, brightly coloured candy bars, the smell of coffee, nostalgic in Egg’s mind. They grabbed a bottle of juice from the refrigerated section and stepped toward the candy shelves.

 

There, the prize of the trek. Small, paper rolled packages of breath mints. Egg licked their teeth, and grabbed a fistful. Two fistfuls, and walked over to the counter to pay. The cashier paid no mind to Egg, She rung them up, put everything into a small bag, gave back change, and resumed staring at the TV, the late news channel talking about the latest exploits of Los Santos’ infamous Vagabond. Egg glanced at the screen, the corner of their mouth quirking up into a small smile. According to the new caster, The Vagabond had been the cause of at least five murders in the past week. An odd detail, being the odd bite marks on each body. Egg picked up their now bagged goods, and exited the store, stifling a small laugh.

 

As they entered their small apartment, their small smile broke out into a full blown grin. Their chest heaved with airy, soft laughter. They grabbed a small roll of mints and dropped the rest by the beat up couch, ripping open the package and throwing a few mints into their mouth. They crunched up each one, roughly, careful to mind their tongue. 

 

One thing Egg had that The Vagabond didn’t was an urge to bite down on something. It was like an itch in their gums, years old habit of grinding their teeth together until their jaw was too sore to clench anymore. Egg had an urge. Egg had a vice. 

 

Egg had killed five people in the past week.


End file.
